iWill Apologize
by CrayonsAndSunlight
Summary: Not a Loliver. Surprising, eh? Freddie has had enough of Sam's attacks and insults, even if it is just fun teasing to her. This is the last straw. Seddie.
1. Chapter 1

Here we are. Sitting on Carly's couch. There's me, closest to the door, then Carly in the middle, and finally the dork is nearest the kitchen. Lucky. I want to be nearest the kitchen. Or at least closer than I am. Food. I. Want. Food. I wish Carly would get up and get me something. But, no. She's busy. With homework. We each have a Science textbook on our laps. I don't really care about Science, or any other school subject. No one in my family has been to college and I highly doubt I'll be the first one. It's like genes or something. Speaking of genes, I need some new jeans. My mom never buys me any and I think I have a hole in the ones I'm wearing. And I'm pretty positive it's in an embarrassing place. Somewhere around the butt area. I dunno, I just have this weird feeling, but I'm too lazy to try and check. I probably couldn't even see it. The rest of my body's in the way.

"I can't see myself loving anyone but you," a man on the television says, trying to sound all weird and romantic, and his voice makes me want to gag. It's the deep voice that guys do when they want to sound cool or something. What is it with guys? Why are they all... guyish? It's annoying! I throw my pencil at the television, the eraser hits the dude's nose. I smirk. Ha, that's what you get, weirdo.

"Sam!" Carly says. Oh no. Not another speech. This time I'm going to be told that I shouldn't throw pencils at televisions. Three. Two. One.

"It's really rude to throw pencils at televisions. Especially televisions that aren't yours."

Ah, see. I know my best friend oh so well. And then an idea pops into my head. "Fine, I won't." I say and grab Carly's pencil. I barely have it in my hand for two seconds before I throw it and the pink eraser bonks Freddie on the nose. I smile triumphantly.

"Sam!" Carly exclaimed. Oh, will she never learn?

I hold my finger up and act all serious. "He's not a television," I say and point my finger at Freddie, "he's a geek."

Freddie glares at me. How I love it when he does that. It only makes me want to torment him more. Which is obviously very fun for me. Not so much for him, which makes it even more enjoyable for me. So, you see, it's all really about me. Like that show 'Everybody Loves Roymund'. But, seriously, what kind of name is Roymund? British, I bet. 'Ello Roymund. Would you like a spot of tea, Roymund? Roymund, old chap, how are you? Oh yes, now _that's_ an attractive name.

"Why don't you just shut up?" Freddie growled.

Ah, how I love the opening for a good comeback. "Why don't you just shoot me with your geek ray? What is it, a computer mouse?"

"That's it!" Freddie stood up, forcing the textbook in his lap to fall to the ground. Actually, it fell on his feet. I watch Freddie wince. "I've had enough!" He said. He quickly bent down and grabbed the book, after that he stormed out of Carly's apartment, slamming the door. A few seconds later I hear the slam of his door. Ah, he's fuming. This is what I live for.

"Finally," I mutter under my breath. I lean forward and grab the remote. I click the up button a few times before settling on some weird game show.

Carly sighs. "Come on, we've got to go see if he's alright." She says, her shoulders falling lazily down. She gets up and walks to the end of the couch, stops, and turns around.

I stare at the television. "You go," I tell her as the oddball game show starts pulling me in.

"You're the one that insulted him!" Carly yelled, throwing her hands up in the air, I can see her from the very corner of my eye. She needs some new shoes. Those suckers are eye-catching. Not in a good way. Sorry Carly.

I pull my legs up onto the couch, enjoying the couch all to myself now. "I insult him, that's what I do," I retort, not really caring about the conversation. Game shows are way more interesting. At least, this one is. "Oh, ouch!" I yell, grinning as I watch the now pretty gruesome show.

"Well, he obviously doesn't enjoy it as much as you do." Carly argues. She crosses her arms.

"Are you kidding? Of course he does! It gets his geeky blood pumping. He's boiling mad. He'll probably open up one of those notepad things on his laptop and type up how much he hates me. He'll stay on his little computer for hours and eventually he'll fall asleep."

Carly raises her eyebrows, I have no idea how I can watch a game show and notice she's raising her eyebrows at the same time. Multitasking. I'm very talented.

"And that's a good thing?" Carly asks, obviously confused by what I've just informed her of.

I nod my head. "Yeah. Before he falls asleep I bet he'll make some web designs for iCarly. It'll have to be the last one since all the others will have my head crossed off and stuff."

"I still think you should apologize."

"But I give him inspiration! If anything he should apologize to me for taking my insults for granted."

Carly's hands are now on her hips and I just know she's giving me that 'Samantha-Puckett-you-do-as-I-say-or-else-I'm-going-to-threaten-you' look.

"Don't make me get the squirt bottle."

I roll my eyes. There goes the threat. I stand up, still watching the television. "Okay, okay. I'll go apologize. Jeez, chillax."

"When you apologize, I'll chillax."

I hate when she does that. I turn off the television and finally take my eyes off of it. I pass Carly and open the door. Apologizing, it ain't fun. I hate it already. I close the door and sigh. Stupid Freddie. There his door is, just a few steps away. Ugh. I don't wanna do this. I _really_ don't wanna do this.

I roll my eyes again and step up to the door. I knock.

* * *

**Alright, there's a few things about this chapter I want you all to know.**

**The show Everybody Loves Roymund is actually Everybody Loves Raymond in real life. I just switched names.**

**Also, I have nothing against English (British) people. I actually hope to visit England someday soon. I just thought that's what Sam would think. Just channeling my character, that's all. Hope that didn't offend anyone. Just wanted to make this very clear.**

**And I'm also very happy about this fanfic. Why? It's going to be my first ever multi-chapter fanfic! Plus it's my first Seddie too. Hope you all enjoy.**

**Stay tuned. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

After what seemed like a very, very long time, the door opened. There stood Freddie. Geekiest boy in our school and I was supposed to apologize to him? This better not get out. Hm, maybe I could threaten him after wards. Yeah, sounds like a plan. Apologize, then threaten. Sam, you're a genius. If I wasn't me I'd married me.

"What?" Freddie deadpanned.

Ooh, snippy. Maybe I should cut his hair? Ha ha, snippy, scissors. I'm hilarious.

Without answering, and without an invitation, I walked into his apartment. Wait, I'm in a dork's apartment? My reputation is going down the dork tube. If I wasn't so wrapped up in my own hilarious thoughts I'd probably be hyperventilating. But seeing as I am so amazingly funny, it just isn't that bad. Wait, did I think that? Okay, reputation is already down the tube. What next, a slide? Oh, yes. The infamous reputation slide. That sounds pretty cool. If it wasn't happening to me...

"What do you want, Sam?" Freddie asked, appearing in front of me.

"Oh, you see. I kind of, I left something here!"

Wow, way to handle the situation, Sam.

Thank you, Sam!

Okay, gotta stop thinking to myself. I bet Freddie does that. I probably make the geek nervous. Aw, poor geek.

"How? When was the last time you were here? Where I live?" Freddie seemed suspicious.

What is he, Carly? Why does everyone have to gang up on me? Why not Gibby?

"What is this, twenty questions? I left my purse here."

Purse? Smooth, Sam, real smooth.

"Do you even own a purse?" Freddie questioned. Rather harshly, I might add.

Ouch. That hurt, Freddie. That hurt me deeply.

"Maybe, maybe not. What's it to ya? _You_ own a purse."

Freddie's jaw dropped.

He looks really weird when it does that.

I kinda want to laugh at him.

That isn't the best way to start an apology, though.

Dang you, Carly!

"It's a laptop carrier!" Freddie insisted angrily.

Maybe this won't be so bad. It makes things easier when he's mad.

You're one odd chick, Sam.

Shut up, Sam.

Okay, enough with the thinking with myself. It's kinda freaky.

"So did you just come here to insult me some more or is there an actual reason for this lovely visit?" Freddie asks, not beating around the bush at all.

He's a teenage boy who uses the word 'lovely'. If that's not a geek I don't know what is.

"I told you, I left my purse here." I should just give that one up, shouldn't I?

Freddie raised his eyebrows, indicated that indeed, I should give the purse up.

I looked down at the carpet below my feet and bit my lip. I don't think I've ever been this nervous around Freddie. Apologizing just ain't my thing. I'd rather shove someone on the floor and demand they tell me I'm right. That's much more my style.

"You like me." It wasn't a question.

Excuse me while I barf.

Me? Sam Puckett? Like Fredward 'The Dork' Benson? He's got to be kidding.

I look up. No, he's not kidding. He's wearing the most serious face. It was actually almost scary.

But what was more scary was that he thought I liked him.

"What in the world would make you think that I liked you?" I ask, very confused now.

Before I knew it, my back was pressed against the door. Freddie was like, on top of me. Kissing me. And I wasn't appalled. I actually kind of liked it.

That little, annoying voice in my head was now screaming "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?" but I didn't care. I closed my eyes.

Considering he most likely hasn't had much, or any experience, he's a pretty good kisser.

My hands had somehow managed to relocate themselves to Freddie's hair.

I don't think I've ever been as... attracted to Freddie, or anyone as I am right now.

"Sam!"

My eyes flew open. It was Carly.

"You haven't killed him, have you?" She questioned from the other side of the door.

I look down. Freddie's lips had made their way down to my lower neck. Fine, I admit it, he's a much better kisser than I thought he would have been. Not that I ever thought about it before.

I pushed Freddie off of me and I swear I actually flew to his couch. "No!" I answer Carly as soon as I get myself in a presentable manner on the couch. Or, what would be presentable for Sam Puckett.

I see Freddie out of the corner of my eye. He looks like a mess. His clothes are askew. I definitely do not remember doing _that_ to him.

And, it hits me. I kissed Freddie Benson. I didn't even puke while doing it, either.

Wow.

I'm staring at the television, which so happens to be off. Who leaves a television off? I mean, really.

Freddie lets Carly in. Without fixing himself. That's just rude.

I'm watching them out of the corner of my eye. Carly took one look at Freddie's appearance and there just had to be something on her mind. How can there not be? Freddie has never looked that messy.

"She mauled you, didn't she?"

I MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT!

If anybody got mauled it was me. Freddie's the one who attacked me. I'm the victim here.

"No." Freddie's answer was rushed. Too rushed for defending an innocent incident.

Smooth, real smooth.

I sigh. "Let's go, Carly." I get up from the couch and walk out the door, grabbing Carly's wrist as I pass her, forcing her to leave with me. Seconds later we're in Carly's apartment and her door is closed. Freddie is not with us. Just me and Carly. I had hoped it would be easier with just the two of us. It's not. It's awkward. And the funny part is I don't even think she realizes it.

"So, what happened?" Carly asked, her hand still on the doorknob.

I'm standing behind the couch. "Nothing." I answer. Ha, what a lie. Good thing I'm good with fibbing.

"Did you apologize?" She questioned.

"No," I reply. Then again, with a ki... with what happened in Freddie's apartment I suppose I did... although not the way I was planning to, not that I had a certain plan or anything. With me it's usually just do it, wing it, and then get something to eat. I wonder if 'usual' will ever be the same again. Today was definitely not a usual day.

"I'll be in the studio," I tell Carly.

"But..." Her sentence was not finished for I was already rushing up the stairs.

* * *

**So sorry for not updating sooner. I'm working with someone on another fic so that's taking up some of my time. Until I finish that I'm afraid I might not be updating too quickly. _And_ I'm going on a couple day vacation, starting tomorrow, so that gives me even less fanfic writing time. Again, I'm very sorry. I hate doing this to you guys. :(**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sooooo sorry it's taken me this long to get up one single chapter. I apologize to all my readers/reviewers. I will try my best to never take this long to update again. No guarantees though.**

I'm upset, angry, hurt, confused... I look down at the floor beneath my feet. "Hurt? Me? No, I don't get hurt. I hurt people. I shove people into lockers and push people off trees. I give people wedgies and force people to tell me what I want to hear. I am Samantha Puckett, only I don't appreciate the 'antha' part. I do not get hurt. No way, no how. It's physically impossible." I say firmly, unsure if any of that is really true. I can feel the craziness of it all sinking in, although I try to deny each and every part of it. I don't want to think about this, I don't want to remember any part of what happened. It was stupid and I never want to do it again. Okay, that was a big, fat lie. Of course I want to do it again! But why do I want to do it again? I can't stand that geek, right? So why am I thinking about it? Why do I want to relive it? Why should I care what happens between us now? Okay, that was a dumb question. Of course I care what happens, it does involve me.

I am sitting on the step in the iCarly studio. The window is open and the wind is making my curly, blonde hair fly around a bit. The rushing air feels good on my neck. I feel like the minutes are passing by and I'm in slow motion, not that I'm moving. I'm just sitting and breathing, that's pretty much it. I hate feeling so clueless. Sure, I'm not the smartest person in the world, but I do usually know what's going on. Yeah, I don't do my homework often, or at all, but that doesn't mean I don't get it, I'm just lazy. Lazy, lazy, lazy. Look in the dictionary, find Samantha Puckett and the description will say 'human; hobbies include eating, sleeping, and filming iCarly; she is lazy and gets bored often.' Need I say more? There's just about nothing in the world that will make me unlazy.

"Sam!" I hear Carly call from the stairs. I don't answer. I just wish I could be left alone for a few minutes. Maybe a couple of hours so I can take a nap. Is that too much to ask for? I mean, I know I'm in Carly's apartment, but what does she expect me to do, go back home? Yeah, I don't think so. That place is like a crime scene; evidence everywhere. My mom isn't exactly a neat freak.

I bite my lip and lay down on the hard floor. I bunch my hair together and put my head on it, making myself a bit more comfortable. Sure, I could go to Carly's bedroom but that would risk seeing Carly. I don't want to see anyone right now, especially someone that is going to ask questions. She could come up here, but I don't think she will. It's a matter of privacy, really. If I step out of this room I'm doomed for an awkward couple of hours. I stay in here and I have a better chance of a nice, quiet life. Or at least for the rest of the day.

I hear the door open. Okay, maybe Carly would come up here. I close my eyes, an obvious signal that I don't want to talk. Carly wouldn't miss it. She would understand. Then again if I told her I made out with Freddie Benson she might go puke. I should be puking about now. Why aren't I puking? I must puke! Wait, what am I, some anorexic chick? I don't think I could ever pull that off. If anyone eats too much, it would be me, not some sickly skinny girl who eats only one meal a day and throws it all back up in the can.

"Sam?"

My eyes fly open. That definitely isn't Carly's voice. And it isn't Spencer's either. Oh, how I wish Carly had another brother. But, no. I know who's voice that is. And I know no matter how much I wish it isn't his, I _know_ it is. I bite my lip. "Not now Carly," I groan. Okay, I admit, that was pretty lame. But if there is someone I don't want to talk with now, it's him.

"I'm not Carly," Freddie said dryly.

Shoot. Maybe I'm not convincing? I was hoping he'd believe me. "What do you want?" I ask, taking this in a knew direction. The 'to the point' direction.

"I want to talk," Freddie answers.

"Well I _don't_ want to talk."

I hear Freddie's feet shuffle on the floor. "Please Sam? We really need to talk about what happened."

I sigh and sit up. However, I was not looking at him. In fact, my back was faced to him instead. "I don't think we really need to do anything. But if it'll make you happy, how 'bout we talk about how we're just going to forget everything that happened in your apartment?"

"What if I don't want to forget what happened?" Freddie asks.

I turn around, finally looking at him. He didn't really say that, did he? "You don't?" This was all I could manage to say. And I am sure I sound like a lost and very confused puppy, hoping for a sign to point me the way home.

"No, I don't. I liked it. I liked kissing you, Sam."

I stare at him, not believing what I'm hearing. "Excuse me?" I question, raising my eyebrows.

"The excitement. It was like the biggest adrenaline rush. I want to feel that again," Freddie answers.

"So all I am to you is a bucket full of danger?" Those words shocked even myself. What did I care? I shouldn't. I shouldn't care at all. I should be laughing in Freddie's face and telling him the next time I kissed him would be in his dreams. So why aren't I? I want to. I want to so freaking much. But I can't.

"Of course not," Freddie insists.

_Riiiiiight._ I turn around again. "Just go away," I tell him, staring at the "car" in the iCarly studio.

"Sam-"

"Go!"


	4. Chapter 4

That one word has been echoing in my mind for the last three days. And I'm freaking sick of it! I am _not_ guilty. Hell is gonna freeze over before I ever feel guilty. I know it. I don't mix well with guilty. When I'm guilty two things either happen. I get... guilty, and apologize. Or I just shove someone in a locker. Or something of the like. And most likely, it will be the second of the two. I admit, it is probably stupid to be abusive when your guilty, but I usually have no other choice. IT'S CALLED DENIAL! I am in denial. I've tried to be in denial that I'm in denial, but that didn't work too well. So I'm perfectly fine with being in plain denial. I don't know how it works but I'm good with it.

_"Go!"_

"SHUT UP!"

I look around me. Dang. Of course, my own words just had to push me over the edge. I'm standing behind my desk and realize I've just shouted out in class, while a teacher was "teaching", and everyone is looking at me now.

_Thump._

Another stupid crumpled up piece of paper thrown at me. That boy really needs to give up. That's the ninth one in thirty minutes! If I didn't turn around the first five times what makes him think I'm going to change my mind? Madness? Heck, I've caused that upon myself. Don't need anyone else's help with that.

My teacher stares at me for like, three hours. Okay, a minute. And finally she says "Samantha, Principal's office!"

I roll my eyes. Oh, yeah. I sooo didn't see that one coming. Teachers are so predictable. I'm more worried that I'm going to drive myself crazy than if I have to stay another Saturday at this stupid, dark waste of mass they call school. I wave my hand, walk across the room and say "Yeah, yeah," as I leave the classroom. Truth be told, I've been wanting to tell all my teachers to shut up for a long, long time.

I hear a faint, "Mrs. McCarthy, may I use the restroom?" as the door slams shut. My eyes become as wide as meatballs. Then, I figure, I'll just use his excuse against him. And I bolt to the sucker so fast I know no one will doubt my trip to "the young ladies' room".

It's easy to ignore him in a crowded hall or classroom. But an empty one? Oh, that boy is good. I'm sure he's learned from me. But that is not the point right now. I'm certain he must have saw me by now, but I was too busy running to listen to any doors open or close.

I collapse on the bathroom floor once I know, if he was following me, he can't see me.

After a few moments I hear a sigh sail into the disgustingly pink room. And after a few seconds - "Sam, come out."

Stupid, idiotic, moronic (is that a word?), dumby (wow, I need to work on those insults).

"NEVER!" I yell, and soon realize it was pointless.

"Please?" He begs.

If I could have seen him, I'm sure I would've laughed at his face. But, I can't, 'cause I can't see it. He knows I'm in here. "I'M IN THE BATHROOM, FREDDIE!"

I can just see him rolling his eyes. Seriously, what is it with me and my lame excuses these days?

"Sam, don't kid yourself. If you're not coming out then I'm coming in!" He threatens.

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. Good, suck up Freddie? Never! "Go ahead," I say, smirking.

Of course, that smirk falls right off when he actually does come in. So basically, I'm just sitting there, my mouth hanging open, hands nearly glued to the floor, as well as my butt, staring up at Freddie. Yeah, I'm feeling like a moron right about now. I can assure you, on my grave, under my name will be engraved _'the moronic blonde'_.

"Can we talk now?" Freddie asks, looking impatient and definitely not amused.

"Uh," I say, really wishing I had to use the bathroom now.

Freddie raises both eyebrows, crosses his arms over his chest, and taps his foot on the tiled floor a few times.

"Time to talk?" I ask slowly, smiling nervously, hoping for the best, expecting the worst.

Freddie nods his head once, doing so in a somehow angry manor.

Yepp. The worst.

"I, um, ha ha," I stutter. Okay, this so isn't Sam-ly, but I don't really care. I just wanna get out of here! Being in a bathroom where Freddie is blocking the only exit, not fair! I looked between Freddie's legs, wondering if I could fit myself in between them and ditch this joint like Uncle Jimmy did with the jail guard in prison. Ahh, if only I had an idiotic jail guard instead of Freddie. Sure he isn't very muscular. But he's smart! With my grade point average I don't even stand (or sit, as I am doing right now) a chance. Stupid mother who never taught me anything. Stupid Uncle Jimmy for bailing and not showing me how. Stupid Freddie for putting me in this stupid position and forcing me to blame everyone else before him. Wait, why should I do that? I should be blaming him for all of this! Stupid, stupid, stupido, Freddie! Oh, how I loathe thee!

Dude, I need to spend less time in English. Curse those forty minutes! They're totally messing up my brain. I hate school. If it wasn't for this whole 'you need to go to school or your mother's going to jail' thing I wouldn't be in this mess! Heck, I'm surprised even that did it!

* * *

**So sorry it took awhile to get another chapter up again. School's started and it comes first. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter!**


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